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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27386401">Marriage (as a Purely Human Concept)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyctolovian/pseuds/Nyctolovian'>Nyctolovian</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Whipped (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Established Relationship, F/M, Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), Male-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Marriage Proposal, Multi, Post not-pocalypse, Post-Canon, She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wedding Rings, of course he is</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:16:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27386401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyctolovian/pseuds/Nyctolovian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A pair of wedding rings had somehow come into Crowley's possession (it was purchased) and she decides she might as well do a marriage proposal while she's at it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Marriage (as a Purely Human Concept)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Honestly, its difficult to write in their voices... It's so damn unique and I try to replicate it but Im honestly not sure how it turned out. I'm really glad I finally got to writing for these two idiots though. Ive been wanting to do so for a while. And there are some Writing Gods in this fandom which is nerve-wracking as hell. ((Srsly its like everyone here writes for a living. I read fanfics in this fandom to learn how to write))</p><p>Oh also: random life update cos I like to do that: job hunting is a sack of balls and I hate it</p><p>Anyway!! The first paragraph just struck me in the middle of the night and I just had to continue it with an actual story. So, tada! Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was an entirely human concept—marriage, that is. If anything, this was an attempt at blending in. They were already so often mistaken as a married couple. They might as well play the part. So yep, the pair of rings Crowley bought was a front. All to fool any onlookers and play the role they have already been assigned to by the humans.</p><p>Surely, Aziraphale would understand.</p><p>Or at least, that's what Crowley told herself as she sat in her Bentley, practically bouncing in her seat with nervous energy. It was a lazy Tuesday afternoon, many months after the Not-pocalypse. </p><p>No angel nor demon had ever bothered them since and the two have settled back into their previous lives before being so rudely interrupted by plans for war. Perhaps "settled <em> back </em>" was the wrong term because it had felt more like coming home for the first time, shucking off a stiff coat they've been wearing all this while and flinging it onto the coat hanger after a terribly long day.</p><p>They were finally able to simply be without worrying about how they should take their next breath. No need to think or overthink.</p><p>So it was no surprise that between spotting a lovely pair of rings, and envisioning slipping them on (one on a spindly, nail-bitten finger and the other on a plump, manicured finger), Crowley found herself outside the angel's bookshop with the pair in her pocket. Completely without proper thought, on autodrive, drunk on serendipity.</p><p>After all, it was a well-known fact that while Crowley was brilliant at coming up with ideas, she was godawful at thinking them through. </p><p>Gingerly, Crowley fished the pair of rings out of her pocket. Crowley couldn't be blamed for her impulsiveness. They really were quite gorgeous. Perfect for them even. </p><p>Crowley collapsed further into the driver's seat with an aggravated sigh. Oh, who was she trying to kid? This was most definitely a selfish romantic gesture that bordered on possessiveness. Unbecoming of a demon, really. Or perhaps rather appropriate given that greed was a sin. Not that anyone was keeping track of her demonic work anymore.</p><p>But what would Aziraphale say?</p><p>Somewhere between the not-pocalypse and present day, they had silently settled into a romantic relationship. The Day After The End, something—some sort of clear dividing line between the two of them—dissolved. And somewhere between then and now, they had settled into a romantic relationship. The tipping point was not clear but where they've landed was immensely so. A result of literal thousands of years dancing around each other in overly complex rituals and choreography for fear of being caught red-handed. It was difficult shaking off certain habits, and the two still found safety in playing out their usual game of implications and knowing glances so it simply continued past the need for it.</p><p>These rings however… Quite frankly, it would utterly shatter their defensive veil of pretense and dance. The nature of the relationship would be out in the open, and that wasn't even getting to the fact that the rings were a direct request for something more; greedy demon that Crowley was. </p><p>With a noise between a groan and a growl, Crowley grabbed the box of cheesecake in her passenger seat, threw the car door open and sauntered to the bookshop with conviction. </p><p>"Hiya, Angel!" she said as the door to the bookshop swung open at the snap of her fingers. </p><p>A rather exasperated Aziraphale was attending to a red-faced young lady, who clutched an ancient-looking book in her hands. The corners of his eyes, however, wrinkled with delight at Crowley's voice and he spun around, hands clutched together in front of his belly. "Oh, Crowley! I didn't know you were coming!" he said. "I love it when you tie your hair up like that. It's very lovely."</p><p>"You say that no matter what I do to my hair," Crowley muttered. She felt a blush grow upon her cheeks.</p><p>"That's because it's always true," he replied. Primly, he turned back to the agitated lady and said, "I'm afraid we will have to close shop this instant. Seeing that we cannot come to an agreement, I'm afraid I cannot sell you this book." He slid the book right out of her hands and pushed it into the bookshelf.</p><p>"But—" The lady's face got even redder. Crowley wondered how much blood this woman had in her to turn this shade. "Just tell me what price you're willing to sell this for!" she yelled.</p><p>Pursing his lips in annoyance, Aziraphale said, "As I've said, you decide what price you're willing to pay and I'll decide if that's the price I'm—"</p><p>Throwing her hands up, the lady let out a screech of frustration. "This is impossible!" she screamed as she marched towards the door, shoving past Crowley with a scowl.</p><p>"Do come back another day if you wish to re-negotiate," Aziraphale called.</p><p>"I'm never setting foot into this bloody shop ever again!" she yelled back from the door. "Go to fucking hell!" </p><p>"I already have," Aziraphale, the cheeky bastard, looking much too pleased with himself, replied as the lady slammed the door shut. </p><p>As he flipped the door signage to "Close", Crowley stuck a hand in her pocket nervously. After clearing her throat lightly, she said, "Arrived at a convenient time, didn't I?"</p><p>"Oh," he said, "you have no idea. That lady has been badgering me for the past hour. I admire the tenacity but I'd appreciate it if she didn't use it for acquiring my books." With a small pout, he looked at Crowley. "Can you imagine parting with a First Edition Oscar Wilde?"</p><p>Crowley let out a grunting hum that conveyed a simultaneous sort of non-understanding and sympathy. She raised the box of cake and said, "Got several gifts."</p><p>"Ah!" the angel said, clapping his hands together, his frown disappearing altogether. He peered into the bag before heading towards the kitchen. "Do take a seat, my dear. I have just the right tea to go with that lovely cheesecake."</p><p>Crowley nodded stiffly and crumpled into her armchair. She shifted in her seat anxiously, unable to find a comfortable position. Where were legs supposed to go again? Surely her skinny jeans were never actually this tight. And perhaps wearing her hair in a loose bun like this was a terrible idea, too much fringe and curtains. </p><p>Before the snake demon could sort herself out, Aziraphale returned with a tray of plates and tea and slid it onto the table. With nimble fingers, he opened the box and cut out two neat slices of the cake. As soon as Crowley took his plate of cake, Aziraphale wasted no time and gently used his fork to carve out a bit of the cheesecake. Crowley watched intently as he popped it between his lips and moaned around the mouthful, his eyes fluttering shut with pleasure. He slid the fork out of his mouth and his pink tongue ducked out to lick off some of the cream coating his lips. How on earth the angel could make eating practically pornographic was beyond Crowley's comprehension, but she absorbed the view like a dehydrated sponge.</p><p>Aziraphale noticed her gaze. "This is absolutely scrumptious," he said after swallowing.</p><p>A smile slid onto her face with ease. "Hm. 's that so?" </p><p>Crowley proceeded to devour her slice, and then spent the rest of the hour watching Aziraphale slowly work his way through the rest of the cake.</p><p>Despite the lovely distraction, however, Crowley found her mind wandering back towards the tiny ring box in her pocket. She squirmed as the thoughts invaded her mind again, like locusts upon a field. It wasn't too late to just let the day go by and never mention the rings. This was far too impulsive anyway. Aziraphale might not even appreciate it. Maybe Crowley would be going too fast for him again.</p><p>But, her mind also supplied, Aziraphale was the one who gave Crowley the keys to his flat above the bookshop. Not that Crowley needed it—she could always miracle her way into his flat if she needed to—but it was about the symbolism and implication. An invitation. An invitation that she took because ever since, she had only entered her flat at Mayfair to collect her belongings and settle scores with the plants.</p><p>Maybe Aziraphale wouldn't mind. Maybe he'd be delighted. Maybe the keys to his flat were the hints. Maybe he was waiting.</p><p> But what if she was reading it all wrong? She never was good at reading, snake eyes and all. He could very well be—</p><p>"Crowley," Aziraphale said, startling her. The plate clinked lightly as he placed it on the table. "Is there something wrong?"</p><p>"Hnk! Nothin'. Nothing's wrong. 's all fine. Why d'you ask?"</p><p>"Your sunglasses…"</p><p>Crowley made a punched out noise and writhed a little in her chair. "Angel, I—" Her voice snagged on her throat and her lips flapped open and close silently.</p><p>It was now or never. And never was a dreadfully long time for an immortal being.</p><p>She raised her ass off the seat so she could reach into her jean pocket and yank out the tiny box. Aziraphale's bottom lip jutted in confusion. With a deep breath (which Crowley's corporation frankly didn't need), she slid off the couch, ripped off her sunglasses and dropped to her knee before opening the box.</p><p>There, neatly sat a pair of rings with identical feathered-wing designs at their open ends. Aziraphale's name was neatly engraved on the inner curve of the silver ring and Crowley's on the black one.</p><p>Aziraphale's eyes widened. "Crowley," he breathed. "You don't mean—" Cheeks tinted pink with surprise, he leaned forward. </p><p>Crowley swallowed the uncomfortable lump in her throat. Her arm gradually lowered as she muttered, "If… it's too much—"</p><p>"It's not," Aziraphale said quickly. "This–" He cleared his throat. "This is a… um… proposal, yes?"</p><p>Crowley nodded.</p><p>"Fancy that. Getting married," Aziraphale mused, fondness dripping from his voice. "Wouldn't it be lovely?"</p><p>Crowley let out a huff of relief and she fought against the soppy smile tugging upon her lips. She fumbled with the box and her trembling fingers were barely capable of holding the black ring. Gently, she cupped the angel's hand. Those soft hands curled lightly over her fingers and she swore she must have been blessed or something because a shock ran down her spine. </p><p><em> This must be a dream, </em> she thought giddily as she slid the ring onto his fourth finger. She glanced up to see Aziraphale's radiant glee, a grin that wrinkled his cheeks and the corners of his eyes and spread into his temples. </p><p><em> No dream could match the ethereal blessing of that smile, </em> Crowley knew. <em> This is absolutely real. </em></p><p>"Humans and their little inventions, y'know?" she whispered in reverence.</p><p>"Indeed," Aziraphale replied. "I do quite enjoy it when they do that. It can all be rather, well, exciting."</p><p>Crowley couldn't help but roll her eyes. "S'pose that's one way to put it," she mumbled.</p><p>He leaned down to pick up the ring box. The cool ticklish sensation as he slipped the silver ring onto Crowley’s finger drew the most delicious shade of rose out of her. “Do you suppose we should have a wedding?” the angel asked.</p><p>The demon faltered, pulling back with a slight frown. She twisted in her spot, struggling for a coherent thought, before she mumbled, “Anything’s fine, honestly. As long as there are no churches involved.”</p><p>Aziraphale burst into the most pleasing belly laugh as he pulled her into a tight embrace. “Of course, my dear.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I honestly doubt they'd actually have a wedding to be honest. They rly dont seem the type at all, and who would they invite anyway??? Aziraphale's just teasing crowley here i think.</p><p>Also, yeah. Gosh, i keep saying this every fic ive posted recently but Im honestly spending more time than i should writing instead of doing Uni things. Im even neglecting this film script pitch thing for my film club because im... writing other stories. *sigh* it is a bit of a mess. Im not... dying at least? So hopefully that helps.</p><p>Follow me <a href="https://nyctolovian.tumblr.com">on tumblr</a> or just come to chill loll. I'd appreciate some kudos and comments!! Thanks for reading ^^</p></blockquote></div></div>
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